


And Now I Lay Thee Down To Sleep

by freakyfangirl



Series: Historical Hetalia [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6307789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakyfangirl/pseuds/freakyfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy Veneziano has seen so much death. But it still follows him around like a phantom. A constant companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Now I Lay Thee Down To Sleep

_476_

Rome was dying.

He could feel it in every fiber of his being. His people were being killed by the Ostrogoths, Germanic peoples. By the very man he once considered his best friend. But it was fine. Every great empire had its time. Rome’s had come. He would survive by his four grandchildren; Spain, France, and the Italy twins.

He had taken the younger Italy, Veneziano, when he fled from the capital of his empire. Rome knew it was unfair to take him from his brothers and friends, but he needed someone to be there.

To be there when he died.

He knew he was probably very cruel to choose his youngest grandchild to be the one to carry that burden. But Rome was scared, though he would never admit that. The scars on his back were still prominent as ever. Back when he was in his prime, they would have already disappeared.

Veneziano had noticed; he always did notice those kinds of things. The young nation had looked up to Rome with big pleading eyes, silently asking what the marks on his back were. Slowly, the great empire had slipped off his cloak and shown Veneziano his scars. “Vene? Can you make a promise to me?”

The young boy tore his attention from the scars and looked up at his grandfather. “Of course, Grandpa Rome!” Rome smiled a bit at the boy’s eagerness, before sobering. “If someone asks you to become an empire with them, say no. It’ll only cause you pain. So much pain.”

Before Veneziano could question him, Rome stood up and placed the cloak upon his back again. He slipped a dagger from the sheath at his waist and handed it to Veneziano whispering, “Promise me you’ll always protect yourself. Now go. Leave.”

Veneziano gave a frightened nod and ran off, but slipped behind one of the boulders when his grandfather wasn’t looking. Rome turned to look at the horizon, remaining quiet for about thirty seconds until he said, “I know you’re there, Aldric.”

It was silent for a moment, as though not even the wind dared to breathe. Then, a man stepped out from behind a boulder. He had long blond hair, a strand of it tied into a braid. The man had piercing blue eyes. This was the country of Germania.

“Hello, Romulus,” he said. The man’s accent was quite thick and so different from what Veneziano was used to hearing, “I assume you know why I’ve come?” Rome gave a solemn nod but remained silent. When Germania unsheathed his sword, Rome opened his arms, as though he welcomed death.

This made the blond man falter, “Are you not going to fight?” Rome shook his head, his eyes haunted and scared. “I have done so much damage,” he whispered, “I do not deserve to die an honorable death. Please, let it be swift so I may take place with our ancestors.”

Germania nodded. He took a deep breath and raised his sword, running Rome through the stomach. With a grunt, the blond man removed the sword and Rome fell to the ground. As he fell, he remembered how many nations’ lives he had destroyed.

He saw himself standing over Carthage, a sadistic smile on his face. He saw himself standing over the body Ancient Greece, and watched as her son wept over her bleeding form. He saw himself battling Ancient Egypt, cackling as his navy destroyed her people.

But he saw his beloved grandchildren too. The young brunette Spain, who was always smiling and green eyes sparkling. Little France (the only blond of the family), he was always speaking of love and had won over the hearts of all the girls in his empire. Small Italy Romano was always scowling, but he was so protective of his little brother and _damn_ could he cook! Little Italy Veneziano, so artistic and cheerful, he made everyone happy.

And so Rome died with a smile on his face, his best friend by his side.

But little Veneziano, he never got over it.

 

_1350_

Italy Veneziano was beautiful.

At least, in the opinion of the Holy Roman Empire. To him, he was gorgeous. He had loved him since the 10th century. But he had never known. He hid it well, in his opinion, but to everyone else he was a lovesick puppy. Everyone knew he loved him.

Everyone but Veneziano.

He had always been the oblivious type. Or so everyone thought. But ever since his grandfather had been killed by a strange man with long blond hair, he had paid better attention to his surroundings. No one he loved was ever getting hurt on his watch ever again.

He still kept his grandfather’s dagger on his at all times, he had made a promise to him to protect himself. And he kept his promise.

But one day he did falter.

He was doing his chores around the house; cleaning, cooking, the usual. He was cornered by Holy Rome. The boy had put his arm over his shoulder, making sure he had nowhere to run. “Oh Italy,” he murmured, “Would you ever want to be a great empire with me?”

Italy’s eyes widened, his hands itched to the dagger being kept under his dress. He opted instead to give the boy a swift punch to the stomach and slipped out of his grasp. Italy turned to Holy Rome with tears in his eyes, “Leave me alone! I never want to become an empire! Not ever!”

Holy Rome looked at Italy and took a cautious step forward. Before he could say anything, Italy whipped out the dagger and brandished it threateningly, but his hands were shaking. “Leave me alone.” He repeated, _“Leave me alone!”_

Italy scowled at Holy Rome, “I will not follow in my grandfather’s footsteps! I will not die like Grandpa Rome!”

He disappeared in a swish of green fabric.

 

 

_1649_

Holy Rome was dead.

Killed. According to Big Brother France. He had thrown himself into the midst of the Thirty Years War and hadn’t come out alive. Grandpa Rome’s words echoed through his head: _“Never become an empire. It will only cause you pain.”_

Look where it got Holy Rome.

The two most important people in his life, torn from him in an instance. It was a process in the making, but the deaths were so sudden.

And so it was there he promised himself that he would protect not only himself, but those around him. His brothers, Romano, France, and Spain. His caretakers, Austria and Hungary. Anyone who he cared about.

He was done with death.

But it wasn’t done with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> 476 - references when the Roman Empire fell to Germania  
> 1350 - references the beginning of the Italian Renaissance in Florence  
> 1649 - the year after the Thirty Years War ended
> 
> so how was it? i wrote this in like two days i am on a freaking streak


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